Float Away
by MissMandS
Summary: She screams every curse and obscenity that she knows as she tries in vain to bring him back to life with a shake, with a squeeze. She screams in a raw, animalistic tone as she begs him to come back, to wake up, to stop this, stop it right now. Fem!Thorin/Belladonna Took. Part 4 of Femslash February.


"We're going to take this balloon and release it together." Belladonna instructs her son who watches her with rapt attention. She grabs hold of his hand and even though he's of age and has been for some time now, his hand feels smaller than ever in hers. And as she wraps it around the string, she feels like she's staring at her baby again. Her baby: chubby cheeked and toddling around on unsure feet; who gurgles and giggles at the simplest of things. But this is her son, her son who is of age and about to go on an adventure with a company of dwarves. Belladonna takes a deep breath and smiles at Bilbo.

"Why are we releasing it together?" Bilbo asks and tightens his grip on the balloon as a strong breeze whips up.

"To give your old mother some peace of mind." Belladonna says and smiles as she feels Bilbo's fingers tighten around hers. Because he is about to float away, far, far away from her and she will soon be alone. She doesn't look at being alone as a daunting task but rather a joy, counting down the days until Bilbo will return to her with tales of his adventures and his time away from the Shire.

"Ready?" Bilbo asks and he gives her hand a shaky squeeze. With a deep breath they mouth one, two, three and let go of the balloon, watching as it floats up and away. Belladonna smiles as it eventually floats out of sight and her son gives her a final hug. She watches as he tears off down the road, contract flying behind him as he shouts about going on an adventure. Belladonna watches until he is out of sight then walks back to the now empty Bag End. She has a lot of work to do if she's going to be receiving the nosy visitors bound to come knocking.

And sure enough other hobbits do come knocking. All of them share the same looks of wide eye shock, hands on their hips and mouths gaping as she laughs and ushers them in. Belladonna serves tea and sweets, a smile on her face as she listens to the questions demanding to know what her son was talking about this morning.

"Bilbo is part Took." Is the only explanation she offers. It's enough to silence the visitors who hide behind their teacups and chew on their cookies. And still Belladonna smiles, thinking of balloons floating up, up and away.

Belladonna passes the time of being alone in the garden, sharing talks with the young Gamgee boy. She shares tales of her adventures with him and even draws a couple laughs from the shy boy. She digs up old recipes and tries her hand at them. Some of her attempts are shared among family and friends. The ones that do not turn out so well go to the Sackville-Baggins. And in the early mornings and late nights, she wanders out, releasing a balloon and watching until it floats out of sight. With each passing day her smile grows a little bit wider, a little bit more hopeful that soon enough, Bilbo will return and tell her all about this adventure.

And then come the rumors which float down into the Shire and into Bag End. Belladonna doesn't think, doesn't pay attention to what she shoves into her pack as she hurriedly stuffs clothes and supplies into her bag. There are no balloons released that day. Belladonna runs from the house with a pack near bursting, panting as she sprints out of the Shire. She has to get to that mountain. She has to get there to her son. She has to get there.

Sleep is a rarity, breaks even rarer as she moves closer and closer to the mountain. She doesn't stop for seven meals a day, settling instead for shoving a quick bite into her mouth as she runs. Her foot hair goes unbrushed and her curls grow filthy with tangles and knots. But it matters not. She has to get to that mountain. And when she does, Belladonna wishes that she hadn't.

The stench of death is heavy in the air and everywhere she looks there are bodies. Man, elf, dwarf, goblin, orc. The bodies are piling up and as she looks around, she tries to find, tries desperately to see if there's a hobbit among them. And she wishes desperately that there's not. Belladonna stumbles through the camps, unaware of the stares that are thrown her way. She has to find Bilbo. She has to find her son.

She can remember when he was born, smelling his head. She wanted to memorize each and every little detail of her son and remembers pressing her son's tiny head. The smell of strawberries, sunshine and mint had filled her nose. And it's this smell now that makes her stop short. Through the stench of death and rotting she can smell her son.

"Bilbo? Bilbo? Why aren't you answering?" Belladonna cries as she moves towards the scent, towards the stretcher where Gandalf leans over her son's body. Gandalf turns at the sound of her voice and his eyes, once wise and sage are now full of sorrow and anguish. Bilbo lies on a stretcher, eyes closed. His lips are parted and she swears that she sees a small smile there as she falls beside him.

"Gandalf?" She already knows but she wants, she needs this reassurance from the wizard that her son really is dead. Really is gone. And when the wizard's hand comes down on her shoulder, Belladonna gasps for air. Then he says those dreaded words: 'I'm so sorry my dear girl. I did all I could.' And then Belladonna screams. She screams no, over and over as she lifts her son's lifeless body to her chest.

She screams every curse and obscenity that she knows as she tries in vain to bring him back to life with a shake, with a squeeze. She screams in a raw, animalistic tone as she begs him to come back, to wake up, to stop this, stop it right now. Lying beside him on stretchers are two others. One flaxen haired and the other dark haired, their bodies just as lifeless. And the knowledge that these too are someone's babies, someone's sons and someone else is going to feel this, feel what she feels now has her screaming all over again.

"He was my son." Belladonna mutters as Gandalf pulls her away. He was her son, her baby, her boy. Her Bilbo. Was. Never will be again. Never will his heart beat again. Never will he smile again. Never will he smoke a pipe again. Never will he ever be Bilbo again. Never will she, Belladonna Took ever be a mother again. This is the first thing she says upon waking up in an unfamiliar tent.

"I'll never be his mother anymore." Belladonna says and curls in on herself as that horrible, empty feeling claws at her chest. Kneeling beside the bed is a hat wearing dwarf with pigtails sticking out beneath it. His own face is wet with tears and as he stares at her, he grabs hold of her hand.

"He, Bilbo, he talked about you. He loved you more than anyone or anything." Never again will she hear him say I love you. That thought has her sobbing as she presses her face against her hands, now linked with the dwarf. He cries too, putting his forehead down on her head as they cry together.

The hat wearing dwarf whose name she comes to learn is Bofur visits her daily. He spends hours in the tent, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting. And when Belladonna cries, she grabs hold of his gloved hand and they cry together. It settles into a routine like that.

Each day one of the dwarves comes to see her. Some of them never enter the tent, standing there in the entrance and just asking how she feels. The ones like Dori and Bombur bring her tea and food and eat with her. And even though she barely touches it, they still stay. The only one who does not come to see her is the leader of the company, Thorin Oakenshield.

"Why does Thorin Oakenshield not come Gandalf?" Belladonna asks one afternoon. She lies in the bed where she's spent the last several days.

"Thorin blames herself for what has happened. The gold sickness claimed her mind and she," Belladonna shakes her head. She has heard the tale already of her son. She has already heard that his last words were: 'the eagles are coming'. She has no cares for that though. All she wants right now is to see the dwarf, Thorin Oakenshield.

"Take me to her, Gandalf." Belladonna says and for the first time in days rises from the bed, standing on unsteady legs. She doesn't bother to change her clothes, doesn't bother to run a comb through her hair. She wants only to see Thorin Oakenshield, wants only to confront her. And it's with this intention that Gandalf guides her through the camp, to a tent where guards stand outside.

She has come too far to be cowed by dwarven guards. Belladonna does not wait for the guards to give their word that she can go in, choosing instead to march past Gandalf and straight into the tent. It is finer than the tent she is staying in, warmer. There are furs laying on the floor of the tent and a desk in the corner with some paperwork piling up on it. And in a bed there lies a dwarf.

The dwarf doesn't move from their spot in the bed as Belladonna drags the chair from the desk over to the bed. They don't move as she settles herself into the chair, scooting closer and closer until her knees brush the bed. Neither of them moves at first and only stare at each other. The dwarf is wrapped up in bandages and she suspects there are stitches and new scars underneath there. Their hair is dark ebony, lined with streaks of silver and for a moment she's reminded of that dark haired person on the stretcher.

"Was he your son?" The words leave her mouth before she can stop them. The dark haired person, Kili she can remember that's his name won't leave her mind now. She wonders about him, about the one lying next to him, Fili. She wonders about both of them. Did they find their way to the afterlife okay? Was Bilbo there waiting for them? Did he find his way there okay?

"Bilbo and my sister sons, they….They were friends. Sometimes it seemed like they were the very best of friends." The dwarf is quiet as they speak.

"The very best of friends—that makes me," It doesn't make her happy. It doesn't ease the aching in her chest or close the hole there but for a moment she doesn't feel like the world is falling out from beneath her feet.

"That makes me feel better." For a minute it makes her feel better that Bilbo won't be wandering into the afterlife alone and someone else will be there, two someone's even who were his very best friends. The dwarf is staring at her with a blank expression as they clutch the covers.

"I have to confess to you." And so she learns of the gate incident, the Arkenstone and the battle that took not only her son from her but someone else's babies. Belladonna's arms which are around her waist wrap tighter and tighter with each word the dwarf speaks until finally she finds herself on her knees, screaming into her hands.

"Bilbo is dead." It's a statement that she manages through her raw screams as she pulls her hands away from her mouth. The dwarf in the bed won't meet her eye, lying on their back and staring up at the ceiling as she continues to scream and wail. Her son, never bred for war is dead. Her son, who never had a care for jewels and gold, is dead. Her Bilbo, her baby, her boy who she tried so very hard for is gone, ripped from her arms without a question of if this is okay. Great loss comes with battle, great loss comes with greed. And a greedy part of her wonders now why it had to be her son? Why not an orc? Why not a goblin? Why not someone else?

* * *

How is she to react? How is she to tell her family? Her friends, how is she to tell them all? The only thing her mind can think to do, can focus on doing now is to have her open her mouth and scream, screech and wail. Tears fall from her eyes as she stares at her now bloody hands which she's beaten on the floor of the tent. At Bag End, there are endless things that belong to Bilbo but they are not Bilbo. They are meaningless. This tent is meaningless, just another thing Bilbo can never touch, can never feel ever again.

Gandalf is suddenly there, pulling her against him. And she can feel his body shuddering as it heaves with sobs. And Belladonna grabs for his robes, takes a shaky inhale, desperate to make sure that Gandalf is real. And he's actually here with her. Her hands touch scratchy fabric and her nose is filled with the scent of the wizard and yes, he's real.

"I'm so sorry my dear girl. For bringing him along on all of this, for taking your son away from you." Gandalf says and she finds the energy to pull away from him, shaking her head.

"No Gandalf, you did not take my son. Greed took Bilbo, hatred and love for a damned jewel took him and it took someone else's babies. She will never be a mother again and neither will I." She will wade through this grief with each passing day until the day that comes, when death finally comes to take her and she will give into its merciful grip. And then perhaps she will find her way to Bilbo again.

Bilbo will not be buried in the halls of Erebor. Belladonna refuses to listen to the offers and the promises that he buried with the princes. It's not for him and she knows this. So she waits until the night is clear and starry and joins Gandalf in walking down from the mountain and towards the lake where a boat lies in waiting. Bilbo's body has been cleaned up and he has been dressed in the finest clothes. Walking in front of her Gandalf carries a lantern, lighting the way ahead of them. Behind her walk Bofur and Dori who carries his body between them. In her hands she clutches a balloon with a letter, attached to the string.

At the boat she watches as Bofur and Dori lift Bilbo's body with the upmost care, wrapping his hands around the hilt of his sword. Belladonna steps into the icy water, ignoring the heaviness of her soaking skirt as she bends down and grabs hold of her son's cold hand.

"We're going to take this balloon and release it together so your old mother can have some peace of mind." Belladonna says and gives his hand a final squeeze before letting go of the balloon, watching it float up, up and away into the night sky. Behind her the others let go of their own balloons. With a firm push the boat floats away with Bilbo's body and she lets out a shuddering sigh as Gandalf comes up behind her, laying his gnarled hand atop her shoulder.

"Goodbye, Bilbo." Belladonna whispers and watches as the boat floats down the lake and out of sight.

* * *

Belladonna hears the arrival of the princess rather than sees her. She is in her tent with Dori, pretending once again to drink the tea he gives her when they hear the anguished cry. It's the same cry she gave upon knowing that Bilbo was dead. It feels natural to stand up and walk out of the tent, ignoring the stares and whispers as she moves towards the dwarrowdam who clutches at the shirt of Dwalin, demanding to know how. She puts her hands on the woman's shoulders and with a firm tug turns her around, wrapping her arms around the woman's waist.

"Me too." Belladonna whispers and feels the woman stiffen against her. And then there's a wail in her ear as the woman goes limp against her and she finds herself kneeling to the ground as she holds the dwarrowdam.

After that it becomes natural to always be in Dís' presence. If Belladonna is not in her tent then Dís is in hers. Often times, they find themselves crying and soaking the blouse, the dress or the tunic of whoever is holding them. It's a couple months after the princesses arrival that Dís finally looks at her, sharp eyes assessing as Belladonna pretends to once again drink the tea that someone has brought to her.

"How do you go on? How do you get up every day knowing that your son isn't going to be here?" Dís asks and looks desperate for an answer.

"I don't know. I try and make myself believe there will be something beautiful in the next day coming: a new bird, a babe will be born or perhaps a flower will bloom, even in the dead of winter. I think of him a lot. What he was like as a baby, as a child and a tween. What he would have been like when I was gone." And then the two share their stories of their sons: of their baby days and the toddler stages. Of the teenage years and what their sons might be doing if they had made it through the battle.

As natural as it feels to be in the presence of the princess though, as natural as it feels to be around the dwarves like Bofur and Dori, she aches for home. Belladonna is planning to go home and packs her things when the flaps of her tent open and she finds herself staring down Thorin Oakenshield. The dwarrowdam is no longer bandaged up and has returned to her deep blue tunics and furs.

"You're leaving." It's a statement, one that she can only nod to. They've had little interaction since their first day in the tent and now, it feels strange to find the dwarf standing here looking at her.

"I have no plans of returning." Belladonna confesses and continues to pack her things, ignoring the dwarf who enters the tent.

"Neither do I and neither does my sister." Belladonna stops at this, her hands in midfold as she turns to face the dwarf. Thorin Oakenshield looks so vulnerable and almost scared in that moment as Belladonna stares at her that she nearly pulls her into a hug like she so often does for Dís.

"There are too many memories here for us, of the dragon, of the gold sickness and death. None of them are pleasant ones we wish to take with us. None of them ones we wish to surround ourselves with day after day. Dáin will rule now." Belladonna fiddles with the button of her blouse, sighing as she drops it into her pack.

"I plan to leave early. The only thing I ask of you is to bring anything that reminds you of your sister sons. Fill up Bag End with memories."

They leave before the sun rises and with each step her pony takes Belladonna finds herself sniffling until she is sobbing. When Dís and Thorin join her, she only cries harder.

Bag End is cold when they step inside but there is no hurry to start a fire. The three of them sit on the floor and Belladonna watches as Thorin and Dís empty out their packs, setting up toy after toy on the floor. Following the toys are clothes, wooden swords and even blankets. There is no speaking between them, no questions of why these items or what their meaning is. There is no speaking the first day. They remain there on the floor, playing with the toys, fingering buttons and inhaling the scents that linger there in the blankets while Belladonna makes a fire and prepares the guest bedrooms. The knocks from visitors are ignored.

The knocks go ignored for nearly a week until Belladonna awakens one morning to a very insistent knocking. She stumbles from her bed with a grumble, scrubbing at her face which is still sore from last night's cry session as she makes her way out her room. She doesn't make it very far before she smacks into the chest of Thorin who lingers there in the hallway with wide, cloudy eyes.

"I can't find them. Why can't I find Fili and Kili?" She asks and Belladonna's shoulders sag as she wraps an arm around Thorin's waist.

"I found Bilbo in a dream last night, hitting Gandalf with a wooden sword." And from Thorin comes a chuckle that vibrates throughout her body.

"Help me find them?" She begs and Belladonna can do nothing else but nod and guide the dwarrowdam back to her room where they lay down together. She tugs the covers up over the both of them and closes her eyes, taking Thorin's hands between hers. For a while they lay in silence until finally Thorin's hands tighten their grip on hers and she opens her eyes to find Thorin tearing up.

"I killed them. That's why I can't find them isn't it? That's why I can't find any of them?" And like she did for Bilbo so many times before, she gathers Thorin in her arms and rocks her back and forth, humming as the woman's body shakes with sobs. From the hallway Dís watches with a small, sad smile on her face as she goes to deal with the visitor.

With each night, Belladonna finds herself wandering outside in her nightgown. Trailing behind her is Thorin and Dís, all of them holding onto balloons. They link their hands and with a deep breath and a count of three, let them go. It is on the night that marks a year of their passing she finds herself alone, staring at the letter in her hand.

_My dear son,_

_ I think about you all the time. With each passing day, the grief does not slow down or lessen but I try and find some sort of beauty in the world. I wish that you could see your cousins Frodo, Meriadoc and Peregrin. They get into so much trouble and remind me so much of you at times that it hurts my heart. Little Samwise Gamgee has worked his way into my heart and their mischief but he will be a fine lad one day. All of them will be, as I know you would have been. _

_ I used to worry a lot that you wouldn't find your way into the afterlife. I know that Dís worried the same thing for her sons. But from what Thorin told me, you were the very best of friends. That means I hope you have not lead them or allowed them to lead you but walked together and found your way. A part of me wonders if you even get these letters or who gets them. If you're getting them then you know I'm still releasing a balloon to give myself peace of mind. You visited Thorin last night in a dream and she said that you called her amad and Frodo was there too. I've forgiven my lad and I hope that someday she will forgive herself too. _

_ With love, _

_ Your mother_

With that Belladonna ties the letter to the balloon and watches it float away, raising a hand to touch the braids that rest by her ears. Behind her stands Thorin with a haunted look on her face as she watches the balloons float away. Belladonna turns and cups her face between her hands, pulling her down to lightly tap her forehead against hers. And when Thorin lets out a shuddering sigh, she reaches up to brush the tear away.

"You need to sleep." She reminds her gently. Thorin shakes her head and lifts up a balloon and a piece of parchment. Belladonna nods and with a final forehead tap, leaves Thorin alone to write.

* * *

I am aware that I did not address a couple things which was Bungo and how Belladonna knew about the battle: for Bungo, in this verse he died in the Fell Winter but Belladonna did not fade upon his death. And how she knew, hobbits are gossipy and heard word about things in the mountain. I

And I'm aware that balloons do not exist in Middle Earth and I am also very aware I blatantly ignored timelines. But it's this amazing thing called it's my story and I'll do whatever I want. Okay? Okay.

I'm so sorry but I am exhausted and it's been a draining day. I've been having trouble waking up for school these past couple days. So I'm just going to pass out now. If there's some mistakes let me know and I'll correct them. Doubtful I will post tomorrow because I have two tests to study for.


End file.
